


Ardently

by inspiredbythemusic



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop, Multi-Fandom, SHINee
Genre: Enemies to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspiredbythemusic/pseuds/inspiredbythemusic
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Original Character(s), Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Original Female Character(s), Kim Jongin | Kai/Original Character(s), Kim Jongin | Kai/Original Female Character(s)





	Ardently

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Jongin. The many years we spent together as children didn’t prepare us to be separated for months at a time because of his busy schedules as an official S.M. Entertainment idol. Although he never failed to brighten my day through texts, phone calls, and FaceTimes, nothing compared to seeing his smile in person. 

Will Taemin be somewhere in this building? I wondered as I approached the S.M. building where Jongin asked to meet. Surely he’s here somewhere. SHINee has just finished a tour in Japan. 

I squirmed at the thought of Taemin, not because we had some kind of disagreement or because I was as starstruck as almost every other person in the world, but because I had been avoiding him for what now seems like a very childish reason. 

Taemin had ventured far beyond the poor town we— he, Jongin, and I— had been raised in, and his fame grew daily. I wasn’t jealous— not maliciously, anyway— but I felt that he and I were living in very different worlds, and I worried that if I spent too much time with him, he would realize it too. 

This fear would have threatened my friendship with Jongin, too, if he wasn’t so determined to honor our childhood promise to be best friends forever.

However, when he smiled warmly as he stepped through the glass doors and drew me into a tight embrace, my fear was quickly quelled and replaced with confidence that Jongin would remind grounded at my side no matter how high his talents dared him to soar. And I couldn’t decide if that made me feel relieved or guilty. 

“So where’s this little restaurant you’re so obsessed with?” I asked as he released me. 

Pointing across the street, he replied, “Just there.” And when I tried to follow his directions he grabbed me by arm and said, “But first— I’ve convinced one of the executives to meet with you!”

“What?” My jaw dropped.

How had I not seen through the lunch invitation that thinly veiled Jongin’s thousandth attempt to coerce one of his bosses into giving me a job? I had likely forgotten about that goal of his since his efforts never succeded past a few uncomfortable phone calls where I stubbornly maintained that, “I don’t want to owe you or Taemin.” But now that he dragged me into the building, a conversation with some professional executive seemed inevitable. 

“Ew!” Jongin shrieked and dropped my hand as soon as the elevator doors closed behind him and effectively trapped me into his plan. “Your palms are really sweaty.” While wiping his hands off on his jeans, he advised, “You should see a doctor about that.”

I argued,“ Clammy palms are a natural response to sudden extreme stress!” Still, I blushed at his observation and tried to pass my colored cheeks off as a symptom of annoyance by asking, “How could you trick me into some kind of job interview? I was promised sushi!”

Jongin laughed, probably mistaking my authentic blossoming panic for theatrics. “Don’t worry, Mai, you’ll still get your sushi– you’ll just get a chance at your dream job first.”

His natural optimism should have been some sort of comfort. Instead, I crossed my arms, pressed my back against the cold steel elevator door, and mumbled, “Don’t be ridiculous, Jongin, nobody would hire some random girl off the streets to write songs– especially not one of the big three.”

Ever determined to disagree, Jongin grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and reminded me, “You’re not just some random girl– you’re my best friend, you’re insanely talented, and on the off chance that Mr. Lee doesn’t see that, I’ll get you a meeting with everyone in this industry until you’re hired.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best pep talk in history, but I swear that Jongin’s smile could inspire anyone to do just about anything, so I shamelessly followed him out of the elevator, holding my head high. I only faltered when he stopped abruptly and said, “Wait here. Let me make sure Mr. Lee isn’t busy.”

Instantly, my confidence evaporated. The hall was eerily silent except for the clicking of keyboards that escaped from the few open office doors, so I quietly hissed, “You mean you don’t even have an appointment?”

Jongin held a finger up to his lips. Perhaps sensing my screaming instinct to run, he repeated, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He tapped his knuckles against the sleek black door, just under a gold sign that read Soo-man Lee: CEO, and he winked at me before entering the room at Mr. Lee’s beckoning. 

Suffice it to say that I wasted no time racing back to the elevator once Jongin was out of sight. It wasn’t that I wanted to disappoint Jongin or seem ungrateful of his efforts, but meeting the CEO of S.M. Entertainment seemed like a giant leap rather than the first step toward my dream of composing music. The fact that I was unprepared and uninvited made the whole situation feel like a nightmare– not at all like a dream come true. 

As my tennis shoes slapped against the marble floor, I decided that I could easily beg for Jongin’s forgiveness, and he would kindly grant it, but I could never reclaim my pride after being rejected by S.M. I could never recover from the crushing determination that I wouldn’t get to achieve my dreams alongside Jongin and Taemin. I preferred to keep telling myself "someday, someday soon,“ because then I would never have to face the absolute of "never–you aren’t good enough.”

When did I become so paralyzed by fear? My thoughts stunned me. I considered myself bold, unafraid to speak my mind, in all manners except the pursuit of my deepest dream. What good is it to be brave except when it really counts?

As I struggled to no avail to find an answer within myself, somebody rounded the corner at a sprint and collided with me. With what felt like a thundering crash, I fell onto my back. My string of curses complimented that of whoever ran into me, but I was initially too dazed to glance at him. 

When I finally sat upright and glared at him, prepared to lecture him for failing to offer so much as an apology, I noticed that he was too busy gathering his scattered papers to even realize that he knocked me down. I was going to ask where he was going that was so important– or if he had ever heard of a paperclip– but I was shocked into silence when he looked at me over his glasses with eyes blown wide. 

I never imagined that I would meet Do Kyungsoo while running away from a job interview with the CEO of S.M. Entertainment that was set up by my best friend to help me achieve my dream. Actually, I never imagined that I would meet him at all, and I certainly never dreamed that he could be so rude as to ask, “Who are you looking at?”

Overwhelmed by an unprecedented blend of awe, embarrassment, and blind rage, I stuttered around an answer until he dismissively waved my babbling away. “Forget it. I don’t have time for this.”

Once I was away from him, I knew, I would think of a thousand ways to put him in his place. I wondered, what good is wit when it isn’t quick when it counts? Quickly, I resolved to scramble to my feet and out of the building before matters could worsen. 

“Hey wait." 

I never would have admitted that my heart swelled with the rise of his voice because I assumed that he would apologize (for running into me and then for being so rude) and that I might be lucky enough to have one of those romantic first meetings that I learned about from Jane Austen and K-Dramas alike. 

But when I turned to face him, he stood tall, papers in hand, pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose, and ordered, "Bring me coffee and a cinnamon bagel from the kitchen; I’ll be in Mr. Kim’s office.”

Had he not been staring right at me, I would have thought he was talking to somebody else.

Only when he turned around, started down the hallway, and freed me from his oppressive gaze did I find my voice. “No, I won’t get your breakfast. First of all, it’s well past noon, and second, I don’t know where that is!”

Kyungsoo rounded again, his mouth slightly agape as if he assumed I was mute. His eyebrows knit together as he asked, “You don’t know where the kitchen is? Or where Mr. Kim’s office is?”

“Neither.”

Unwilling to hear the explanation that this was my first (and likely only) time in the S.M. Building, and I wasn’t here of my own choice, and– above all– I was not his servant, Kyungsoo demanded, “What good are you then? Does the help around here know anything these days?”

And just as I stormed toward him, dangerously close to succumbing to my temper’s urging, Jongin appeared at Kyungsoo’s side, locked eyes with me, and cheered, “There you are!”

Jongin would have had to be blind to miss how Kyungsoo and I glared at each other, each silently daring the other to say just one more word to justify our impending outburst. In what must have been an attempt to lighten the mood, he laughed, “I should have known you would run off to catch a glimpse of your bias.”

I opened my mouth to rob Kyungsoo of the flattery by telling Jongin that I officially decided to change biases, but I was interrupted by Kyungsoo asking, “So you know this girl?”

Jongin joyfully thew an arm around my shoulders and, contrasting greatly against Kyungsoo’s disgusted, disbelieving tone, cheerfully declared, “Oh yeah! Maisa has been my best friend forever. And you should get used to her, D.O., because she’s gonna be the best songwriter in S.M.’s history!”

Jongin’s boasting about me was never quite as humiliating as right then, when Kyungsoo simply rose his eyebrows and questioned, “She will?”

Don’t misunderstand– I wasn’t offended because I was oozing with self-confidence or because I was so convinced that I was destined to be some composing legend. In fact, I had absolutely no confidence that Jongin’s last-minute surprise interview would work to my advantage in the slightest. Had he not offended me from the moment our eyes met, I would have agreed that Kyungsoo’s skepticism was supported by all rationality, but given the events of those past five minutes, I literally bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him for Jongin’s sake. 

Without missing a beat, Jongin answered, “Definitely,” and steered me back to Mr. Lee’s office before I could bite through my tongue or say anything regrettable. 

Once I regained control of my thoughts, I started, “What a– a–”

But I struggled to fathom an insult becoming of Kyungsoo. Finally, I settled on screaming, “Douche canoe!” with no concern for whether Kyungsoo, Soo-man Lee, or anyone else in the building heard. 

Jongin must have expected a tantrum, because he merely blinked and warned, “You shouldn’t let Kyungsoo under your skin.” He leaned against the wall beside the CEO’s door, tried to nudge me out of my frustration, and claimed, “Seriously, Mai, he’s just not one for first impressions–”

Although unamused, I laughed. “That has to be the biggest understatement ever. He isn’t even half as pleasant as the most disagreeable character he’s ever played–”

“Maisa!” Jongin interrupted. I only closed my mouth when I noticed his protruding pout. “We’ll talk about Kyungsoo later because I know you’re not gonna get over it any time soon. But for now, get in there and convince Mr. Lee that you belong in an office brainstorming lyrics, not locked away in the kitchens!”

I barely managed to quizzically repeat, “The kitchens?” before being shoved into the office. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
